


Repose and Respite

by starry19



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 04:10:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16339547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starry19/pseuds/starry19
Summary: "It had been a very long time since someone wanted him, and though she was trying to make up for lost time, for long, dark years of solitude, the shadows she sometimes saw in his eyes told her that it was quite possible there would always be a blackness there. But still, she tried."





	Repose and Respite

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who have been reading my fics for a long time, you’ll note the alliterative title. Yup. They’re back.

 

**Repose and Respite**

Garcia Flynn was a cuddler. 

It was so beyond unexpected that the idea of it had never even crossed her mind before. Even since had begun to see him in a different light. It had been early in their…relationship, for lack of a better word. When they were still on rather opposite sides. 

When she knew there was more to him than met the eye.

She had gone from seeing him as the enemy to seeing him as someone in need of salvation. And yes, while she had had the random rogue thought about him romantically - it would have been difficult _not_ to have had thoughts in that direction - it wasn’t until quite recently that she started seriously considering what he would be like as the other half of a couple. 

Sweet, as it turned out. 

Thoughtful. 

Protective. 

Supportive. 

And, yes, cuddly.

She had come to discover that he liked to sleep wrapped around her, their fingers laced tightly. And that he loved touching her, however innocuously, now that he’d finally come to terms with the idea that she wanted him to. He loved her to touch him, too, though some of the reasons for that rather broke her heart. 

It had been a very long time since someone wanted him, and though she was trying to make up for lost time, for long, dark years of solitude, the shadows she sometimes saw in his eyes told her that it was quite possible there would always be a blackness there. 

But still, she tried.

Lingering kisses, fingers in his hair. Long conversations in the dark, his warmth surrounding her. Teasing caresses, enough to make him groan or laugh, depending on what she was doing. 

He was fascinatingly broken. Less than he used to be, true, but still with visible cracks.

She loved to make him smile, loved to make his eyes light up. 

Loved the knowledge that she owned him. 

Whatever she had with Wyatt, it didn’t compare to this level of devotion. This level of infatuation. She loved to watch him do anything. Loved how his voice sounded. 

At some point, his focus had shifted from undoing the monstrous tragedy that had befallen his family and more about avenging their deaths. She felt guilty about that, knowing that she was probably at least part of the reason why. 

But she thought that she was maybe too selfish to give up another man she loved to someone who should have been a ghost. 

Bothered by the idea of another heartbreak, she frowned in the darkness, shifting slightly closer to a sleeping Flynn. Though, truly, it would have been difficult to get closer than she already was. 

The narrow, army-issued cot wasn’t made for two people, and certainly not when one of them was six and a half feet tall and delightfully broad-chested. Still, she squeezed herself in next to him most nights, the solid wall on one side and the solid man on the other making her feel as close to safe as she thought she was capable of these days. 

Still asleep, Flynn’s armed tightened automatically around her. Even unconscious, he could comfort her. 

There was a strange form of instinct that defined this second, newer part of her relationship with him. One of them moved or spoke or acted, and the other _re_ acted. They had entire conversations without speaking, just exchanging a look or a brief touch.

The first time they kissed, she had been able to feel him trembling even before their lips had met. 

He had hidden his face in her neck after, and she had pretended to not notice that his eyes were wet. 

She turned now, studying his features in the dimness, his dark hair tumbling onto his forehead, the lines around his eyes smoothed out while he slept. Unthinking, she brushed her knuckles across one cheekbone, and watched with fascination as his lips turned up slightly. 

Abruptly, she came to the conclusion that she had no idea how much she loved him. And love him she did.

It was hard to have any sort of guard or hesitation or instinct regarding self-preservation in the face of such open adoration. 

She pushed his hair off of his face, and his eyes opened, sleepy and tender. 

“Hey,” he murmured, accent thick. “Everything alright?” 

She nodded, smiling as she watched him subtly lean in to the hand she still had on his face. “Sorry I woke you up,” she whispered.

He turned slightly, kissing her palm. She felt worshipped. “It’s no bother,” he told her. 

She nuzzled into his chest, the soft cotton of his shirt sliding across her cheek. She loved this, the moments of peace that had found her in the middle of this war. Before, when she was…normal…she had never appreciated the quiet like this.

Flynn shifted, one hand splayed on her back, the other running gently through her hair. She pressed her lips to his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin transferring to her

One of the many perks of being with a large man is the excess of body heat available, and she was more than happy to take advantage of it. For his part, Flynn always seemed delighted to share, as well. 

His fingers traced down her spine, softly, softly, softly, and she knew without looking that his eyes were closed again. 

She wiggled up, kissed his cheek, his jaw, the corner of his smiling mouth. Then his lips, fighting a grin of her own as his smile faded. She kept her kisses soft, gentle, and he matched her pace, languid and easy, one big hand easing under the hem of her shirt to rest on her lower back. 

Goosebumps broke over her bare skin. God, she so loved how this felt. Loved when he treated her with a combination of reverence and lust. 

She was very much looking forward to finally making love with him. They hadn’t made it that far, not quite yet. Part of it was her natural hesitancy - with everything that had happened with Wyatt, she was rather gun-shy about falling into bed with someone else. Part of it was him - she knew there was still at least some of him what didn’t believe she could ever want him like that, and he didn’t want to push for fear of losing her. 

They had fooled around before, had pushed their boundaries. Once, she’d thought they were going to push those boundaries all the way until they broke. Her shirt had been off, as had his, their mouths fused together, his fingertips sliding over her slick skin, stroking and caressing and making her forget her own name. 

She had muffled her moans in his shoulder, nails digging into the sheets, flushing as she shivered around him. 

When she managed to open her eyes, he was looking at her with quite the expression. 

Part wonder, part male satisfaction. 

“You look smug,” she’d told him, winding her arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. 

“I _feel_ smug,” he’d admitted, smiling before kissing her gently. 

Things had escalated a little more from there, and just as she was delighting in the tense set of his muscles and the catch of his breathing whenever her hands touched him in just the right way, the alarms sounded. 

Flynn had sworn. 

But had levered himself off of her nonetheless. 

They hadn’t quite been back in the same place since. 

The mission had been bad, for one, and they had come back in a state of acute exhaustion that had lasted for days. 

Still. 

She wondered what he would do now if she climbed over him and pulled his hands to her body. Probably whatever she wanted. 

He kissed her again, very softly, then slowly pulled back, tucking her against his chest. She listened to his breathing, slightly faster than normal, skin feeling pleasantly warm. 

“Sleepy yet?” he asked, his words vibrating in his chest. She knew he was tired, even as she knew he’d stay up with her for the rest of the night if she wanted. 

So she snuggled into him, dragged the thin wool blanket over them, and determinedly closed her eyes. “I wonder what it would be like to have a king-sized bed,” she said, thoughtlessly, arm around his waist. 

“Pleasant, I imagine,” he murmured, “though you have to admit that there are a few perks with our current situation.” 

Like the fact that she had to basically sleep on top of him. 

“I concede your point,” she told him. “But still. I’m looking forward to a little more than this.” She held up a corner of the army-issue blanket in illustration.

“Then I hope, for your sake, there are improvements soon.” She knew his eyes were closed. 

“And for your sake?” she wondered. 

He gave a very shallow shrug. “As long as it’s beside you, I don’t much care about where I sleep.” 

It was an honest statement, but a very heavy one. Moved, she quickly blinked back unexpected tears, knowing he would hate to make her cry. Instead, she hugged him fiercely, nose in his chest. 

He squeezed her gently. 

And she hoped - oh, how she hoped - that she would get to keep him. That these dark forces that they were dealing with wouldn’t take him away. They had taken Wyatt from her, with the resurrection of his wife. She had managed to survive that, Garcia Flynn holding her up when she wanted to shatter. 

But she simply didn’t see a way that she would make it through his loss. 

However, she sort of figured that the universe owed her some good luck - owed her this man, healthy and whole and wholly hers. 

She let him go back to sleep then, praying his dreams were peaceful. They weren’t always. Sometimes, they were edged and red and black and horrors that he couldn't bring himself to talk about. Mostly, she thought they were about Lorena and Iris, though God only knew what he had been through in the years before them.

When he woke from nightmares, cold and trembling, she would hold him, his head to her chest, with some vague idea that if she loved him hard enough she could take away his pain. 

It didn’t work like that, she knew it. If it did, she knew he would have taken most of her pain onto himself. 

But she did also know - or rather, she had _started_ to know - what her love meant to him. It was…his reason for being. For coming back to humanity, for staying alive in the first place. She was the reason he had done so many, many things. 

The only thing he’d had to hold on to was the distant promise that she would be with him eventually. _Quite the team_. 

Yes, they were. 

He was her shield. She was his conscience. He was her haven. She was his compass. 

Abruptly, she propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at him. Sound asleep again, a day old beard shadowing his cheeks and chin. 

“I love you,” she whispered, almost silently. 

Carefully, she lowered herself back to his chest. Perhaps one day soon she would be brave enough to tell him that when he would remember it. It had been a scary thing to admit to herself, scarier even than admitting it to him. 

At least with Flynn, she knew what his reaction was likely to be. With herself, she was never sure. 

She closed her eyes, focused on the steady rhythm of his heart. It was wildly soothing, and soon she found herself hovering on the edge of sleep. 

Through the dozing haze she was in, she felt Flynn move, tilt his head slightly towards her. Felt him draw a breath. 

“I love you, too,” he said, and she didn’t know if he thought she was awake or asleep. 

It didn’t matter - she couldn’t have opened her eyes again anyway. 

And that’s how she fell asleep. Tangled together in a too-small bed with the man that looked at like she was every one of his dreams come true. 

What she didn’t realize until later was that she really was. 

 

 

 


End file.
